Balance
by Jobey in Error
Summary: Uproar in the Potter-Weasley clan. Ch. 1. "Teddy, I'm not going to flash my Auror badge for emergency transport to Greece just because James has developed hidden depths. I mean, I think the general consensus is going to be 'it's about time', isn't it?"
1. The Scare

_A/N: Unlike... every other chaptered fic I've ever written, this is going to be completely off-the-cuff. Minimal planning, little to no writing ahead, short chapters. _

_Originally I was working on what would have been a much longer draft. It featured much of the same stuff -- epic Quidditch; James and Albus in the mother of all family feuds; James making a wreck of his life; Teddy and Victoire inviting him to go with them somewhere exotic to clear his head awhile; a love interest named Magda; Auror-of-Awesomeness!Harry; James finding his true calling... only James never did find a calling in that narrative._

_That's when I came up with this simpler, more crackified version. Since conscientiousness didn't get me very far, I decided to just have fun with this one. You have been warned._

**Balance**

**Chapter 1 -- The Scare**

It was after a long day of keeping law and order that Harry James Potter (Order of Merlin, First Class; Master of Death; Head of the Auror Office; the Boy Who Lived _and _the Man Who Lived) Apparated with a slight stagger outside his front door. There were still bits of vampire guts on his boots, and ink splattered his chin, testifying to the speed with which he and Ron had raced through their report like so much distasteful Divination homework. With a weary grin, he braced himself. _This_ was the toughest part of the day.

He let himself in, stiffening for the sounds of shouting, banging, and whistling --

-- and closed the door again, hearing only its click.

He blinked. Then sighed. He kicked off the begrimed boots, remembering with a sinking feeling that his home's glory days as a zany madhouse of carefully-controlled chaos appeared to be over.

With another sigh, he flopped into an armchair and closed his eyes, trying to enjoy the peace instead of resenting the silence.

He started considering dinner -- Ginny was training for an exhibition match of "Living Legends" on the international Quidditch scene. Harry missed her, despite being the better cook. The count over the fireplace said he had missed fourteen Floos, and his heart leapt in hope that those had been her. He wished he could have taken off and accompanied her to France, but he had used up more than his fair share of holiday time when the kids were younger.

Which meant it would have been nice if said kids -- now frighteningly close to adulthood -- were around to share in this exile. But Luna Lovegood had invited Lily for her annual Crumple-Horned Snorkack chase, Albus had left that morning to spend a weekend camping with Scorpius Malfoy, and James --

The fireplace whooshed into life right on cue; Harry peered at it to see the head of a wild-eyed Teddy Lupin bobbing in the green flames.

"Oh, thank goodness you're finally home, Harry!"

Harry, who had heard more promising starts to a conversation, was immediately on edge, wondering why he hadn't spared more thought for those fourteen missed Floos before. "Teddy? Is it James?" he demanded. Never mind that, over the past few months, he had frequently wanted to strangle his eldest: a cold hand clenched his heart and _squeezed_. "Where is he?"

"He's here, he's here, we have him here!" cried Teddy quickly, looking guilty as hell.

Harry exhaled. "All right -- only don't _scare_ me like that, Teddy, I was worried enough about sending James with you and Victoire to begin with because of those siren sisters they say One-Hit Halkias has over there and we all know James hasn't got the temperament to resist one of those -- "

"No, it's not that, but you need to get over here _right now_." Teddy had not relaxed when Harry had. Harry had never seen his carefree, easygoing godson so anxious before. The cold hand reached for his heart again.

"I'll come immediately," he said, Summoning his boots, "but it'll take at least an hour to get through all those Floo systems, and I'm not going to wait that long fearing the worst. What's happened?"

Teddy seemed unable to speak for an instant, in which Harry had already laced up one boot with lightning haste. "James, he's -- oh, damn it -- he's gone _mystic_, Harry."

Harry stopped in the middle of tightening his other laces.

"Sorry? He's gone -- mystic?"

Teddy nodded miserably.

The second boot dropped to the floor. Somehow, even his most protective paternal instincts could not keep panicking. "What, he's taken up meditation and vegetarianism? Teddy, I'm not going to flash my Auror badge for emergency transport to Greece just because James has developed hidden depths. I mean, I think the general consensus is going to be _it's about time_, isn't it?"

"Harry, I don't think you understand." Teddy, although his voice was strained, gave Harry an oddly steady look. "_James_," he said, with exaggerated slowness, "has gone _mystic_."

Harry stared back at him, waiting for it to sink in.

Once it did, he swallowed, sheet-white. "Oh _God_."


	2. Family Matters

_I would like to acknowledge my reviewers, inktree, ngayonatkailanman, Brilliantseeker, and Computercatastrophe2. Thanks very for the responses. _

_I should also take this time to acknowledge some of my ficcy influences. Mistful's "Nineteen Years Later; OR, The Kids Are Alright" is the only "epilogue" generation fic I could ever stand to read twice; it's simply BRILLIANT. No, I don't agree with all her interpretation, and it's shot through with interview canon now, but it doesn't matter, it's zippy and hilarious and fun and even touching. Her Draco is not my Draco, but she convinced me to finally give a damn about him ("Just that I'm a coward. But you already knew that.") And, since I've fallen in love with her Albus and Scorpius, I really can't write either of them any other way anymore. _

_Then there's also, on a much more minor scale, "Of Pride and Prejudices" by aramintalupin. I barely skimmed the whole thing -- I never did bother to keep track of the various Viktor-and-Lavender figures, and all the stuff involving Teddy was cringingly bad -- but it totally changed my characterisation of Victoire, so it needs acknowledgment. Emma-ish!Victoire seems very logical to me now, considering her background. _

_And I've just realised I am playing with a very similar trope to that found in Hyphen's classic Marauder fic, "The Speculum Curse," and there will even be a homage line in this fic recognising the fact. Brownie points for whoever spots it. _

**  
Chapter 2 -- It's a Family Matter**

Harry immediately fired off a message to the lowly junior night staff at the department, ordering them to ready his emergency trip to Kavala. It would require lots of planning, rerouting, and arguing with customs officials, which was what a lowly junior night staff was for.

He also felt no compunction about sending the message via the old Order method. This was an emergency, and if his famous stag Patronus was likely to get the quickest results, then Patronus it would be.

But, now that Harry understood the crisis, he felt dread rather than panic. Therefore, instead of barging into the Ministry himself and pacing madly, he was willing to make a quick detour before setting off.

Draco Malfoy met him at the door, with his usual wariness.

"No, they haven't set off yet. Out back." He indicated the yard with his head. "Is there something wrong, Harry?" he asked stiffly.

"No. Yes. James -- "

"Ah," nodded Draco. "Say no more."

"Yeah, thanks," said Harry, with real gratitude. He marched through the foyer, kitchen, and conservatory to the back porch.

This was not, of course, Malfoy Manor. It was about a tenth the size. Harry had done much to ensure that none of the family actually went to Azkaban after the war, but he had not felt the faintest twinge of conscience about huge fines that had eaten most of their fortune. In fact, he and his friends agreed that there was something annoying about the Malfoys' ability to bounce back. Draco was far too comfortably well off for someone supposed to be supporting his wife, son, _and_ parents on a Healer's salary.

That Draco was a Healer would have been a great joke in the Potter-Weasley clan, if anyone had found a way to make it funny instead of bizarre.

Al and Scorpius, the inseparables, were trying to fold up their tent in some sort of order. Albus appeared to be doing most of the work, talking a mile a minute, while Scorpius did what he did best, which was to lounge about, looking superior and bored.

Harry always refused to let his mind make the obvious connection when it came to Malfoy's son.

" -- and when you think about it, Score, _that_'s the moment goblin-wizard relations really hit the point of no return. I mean we always _think_ it was -- oy! Dad!" Albus beamed. "What's up? Are you coming with us after all?"

Scorpius said nothing, though Harry distinctly caught an _oh, God, no_ look crossing his pointed face.

"I'm afraid not, Al. Can I have a word with you?" Albus waited expectantly, with perhaps a touch of defiance behind the expectation. Harry hid a sigh. "It's a family matter."

Albus considered this. "Okay."

Harry felt Scorpius's grey eyes fixed on their backs as they walked off several steps so that Harry could explain, in an undertone, where he was heading and why.

Al's expression went stony at the mention of James, and Harry knew what the answer to his question would be even before he asked it.

"I've already got plans," said Al, in a would-be airy tone. "I'm not breaking them just because James is acting up. 'S not like it's anything new, is it?"

"I think he's more than just acting, Al," said Harry. "Teddy wouldn't have worried us if James was just being James." A pause. "Al. I'm not quite sure what to expect of your brother when I go down there, but I think that, whatever it is, having you around would be a big help."

Albus's jaw locked. Harry eyed it incredulously. Everyone always said how alike the two were, in looks and mannerisms, but surely he himself hadn't looked like such a stubborn prat at sixteen.

"No," he said flatly. "He's _not_ my brother."

"You may not be great pals just now," said Harry, no change in his quiet tone, "but he's still your brother."

"I already told you, he's not a part of my life anymore. And it's been loads better ever since."

"Al."

"If he's gone spare enough to do something _really_ mental, like apologize, you can let me know. But I'm not holding my breath." Albus waved a hand. "I've got a tent to pack. Good luck, Dad."

Harry watched him, hands stuck in the pockets of his robes. Albus did not talk until after Harry Disapparated to the Ministry, and Scorpius did not prod him.

He knew there was no real chance that Albus wouldn't tell Scorpius everything, but he held out hope that he would keep the family silence around dear old Draco, at least.


	3. Floo Travel

_A/N: I'm sorry for the delay; I'd like to update this once a week, but this has been crunch time at my university -- I'm sure you all understand. What I'm really sorry about is the timing, because this was always intended to be a reflective "filler" sort of chapter, which is not a proper reward for the wait I have put you all through! Ah well, next chapter James has promised to make things lively. _

_Thanks very much to Possum132, sums96, ink tree, ngayonatkailanman, and auroraziazan for their reviews. _

**Chapter 3 -- Floo Travel **

"If you Apparate to Calais then you can catch the Floo to Saint-Etienne at 7:25, Captain," said Trainee Auror Magda Jacobs. "Special private trip. We have the whole itinerary lined up; you'll be in Kavala at five to eight."

"That's the fastest they could do?"

Trainee Auror Jacobs hesitated. "Well, Captain, we can make it 7:41, but only if we break Floo safety laws, and really, what use are you going to be for the boy if you're puking up all the meals you had today on arrival?"

Harry grimaced. "We'll risk it. Pull out all the stops."

"As you say, Captain."

"Thanks, Magda."

Harry Disapparated again, with nothing but his wand and his passport. Bracing himself all the while, because, to be honest, his stomach wasn't what it had been as a teenager, damn middle age anyway.

--

The Wizarding Tourist Office at Calais. Otherwise known as a bureaucratic madhouse. It parted like the sea before Harry, though. There were definite advantages to being the most famous wizard alive.

"Right this way, sir -- "

_Whoosh. _And then the Wizarding Tourist Office at Saint-Etienne.

From there, however, the trip seemed to slow to a Flobberworm's pace.

--

Harry sat, kicking his heels, letting all the French wash over him. Harry had never been much for languages and never would be. He sighed impatiently as the second hand of the clock on the wall insisted on moving only in seconds, and closed his eyes.

This sort of rampant inconvenience was _exactly_ the sort of thing James liked to cause.

--

Harry continued to reflect upon his firstborn even as his passport was stamped and his person pushed into one roaring green fire after another.

When James's current path of self-destructive intensity had started, Hermione had laughed at Harry's perplexities, and reminded him that he had not exactly gone through adolescence with a great deal of grace either. Ditto with Ginny.

But that had been almost two years ago, and Hermione, along with everyone else, had long ceased to laugh.

Only Teddy's patience wasn't quite yet at an end when it came to his "godbrother." This had probably had a lot to do with Teddy having neither the Potter nor the Weasley temper, and even more to do with Teddy not actually having to _live_ with the brat. James simply ran to hide out in Teddy's flat to escape the storms at home he himself had caused, and Teddy fed him and intervened so that his mother didn't actually murder him.

But while Teddy had gone a solid month chaperoning James on holiday without taking up Ginny's explicit permission to use a Full Body-Bind on him if necessary, the tone of his letters _had_ grown steadily wearier...

From Saint-Etienne to Milano. (_We've got to the Delacours' safe and sound, though it wasn't for lack of James trying!_)

From Milano to Trieste, and yes, Harry's stomach was getting very choppy by now. (_At the risk of ruining the suspense, I should probably jump to the end of the thrilling tale and assure you that a) James is completely fine, he was only in the hospital for a few hours and b) local Magical Law Enforcement says it won't be going on his record..._)

From Trieste to Zagreb, and yes, Harry's stomach was getting very choppy by now. (_Honestly, I should have known better than to let James get near anything known as "griffin wrestling"..._)

From Zagreb to Travnik. (_On the bright side, James has become the first human to beat goblins at poker in something like several centuries, which I'm sure will be a great comfort to him now we've revoked his allowed-to-leave-our-sight privileges for the rest of the week..._)

From Travnik to Sarajevo. ("Seriously!" Harry shouted at this juncture. "Can we please move things along here?" Unfortunately, none of the helpful officials there seemed to understand Pissed-Off English.)

From Sarajevo to Pristina. (_Victoire's clients weren't amused. Neither was Victoire, which is rather more unfortunate for me._)

From Pristina to Thessaloniki. (_I'm beginning to think you might be right, Harry, as usual: I really should have taken James on holiday BEFORE he was allowed to use magic..._)

From Thessaloniki to Kavala, thank God. It was time, Harry thought as he whirled through the oppressive green inferno, that he handled this himself.

"Welcome to Kavala, Auror Potter!" said a perky young woman, in clipped but flawless English and a blinding smile.

Said blinding smile was probably not why Harry stumbled out of the Floo, swayed violently in one direction, and then more violently in the other. At the second sway, he went down.

The nausea and the knot of concerned officials rushing towards him made him retreat to his thoughts again until the unpleasantness passed.

It just seemed he was always hearing about James's latest freak from someone else, whether it was an owl from Neville, or complaints from James's siblings and cousins, or half-finished shouting matches between him and Ginny when he walked through the door, or Floocalls from the Burrow whenever James was recreating the chaos that it had once taken seven energetic children to generate.

This time, he wasn't going to shop James off to Hogwarts for the beleaguered faculty to deal with, and James wasn't going to be able to give them all the slip by claiming sanctuary with Teddy. Harry was going to break through months of mounting exasperation to really deal with the boy.

It wasn't that James was a _bad_ kid. Really.

(_... at which point I tried to get James to acknowledge the culpable stupidity of trying to magically juggle fireballs, at least in the hotel. All I got was "It's not like it's a big deal, you can just morph the burn away, can't you?"_)

Okay. James was a bad kid, in fact he was a _horrible_ kid. But still. He was _Harry_'s horrible kid, and Harry was going to cut a swath through all these years of disconnection and madness.

At this juncture, full of new resolution, Harry tried to sit up.

Fortunately, one of his host officials had already Conjured a basin.

Harry swore at himself. He couldn't even handle the International Floo Connection. And really, there wasn't a force on earth that could stop James from using his boundless dark energy to make higher planes of existence just as much a bother as the humdrum ones. This was going to be mental and unpleasant and generally epic.

As he gingerly got to his feet he tried to console himself with the thought he could be wrong, but no dice. He was Harry bloody Potter. He was the modern-day _Dumbledore_. This meant, unfortunately, that he was never, ever wrong.


	4. James Meditates

_No real excuse for the wait this time -- though, in my defence, it is quite a long chapter. Can't quite keep track of who I replied to and not, but my happy, humble thanks to loveandpeace09, ngayonatkailanman, skimble on the rails (awesome name, by the way), sums96, and Biggles Mad (I would have known for sure who you were even without your sig!) _

**Chapter Four -- James Meditates**

Harry hadn't broken enough Magical Transportation regulations that day, so he capped it by his Apparition to an unknown spot, based on squinting out the window to where an official helpfully pointed out the Stomalimne Hotel.

Being Harry Potter, he didn't Splinch himself. Though he was a touch dizzy.

The Stomalimne Hotel was painted in surprisingly splashy colours and had a crowd of surprisingly worked-up people milling around, staring at the sky. Harry gave it a cursory glance, saw nothing, and proceeded to hightail it inside to room 804. Relieved to have finally arrived (and still a bit weak from what Magda had so delicately expressed as "puking up all meals on arrival"), he showed the crowd some mercy as he muscled his way through without once resorting to small explosions or minor hexes.

Midway through, he found the normally relaxed Teddy elbowing people out of the way recklessly, which gave Harry further pause. Teddy making use of his elbows was a scary enough proposition even when he was trying to take care. Harry was pretty sure he cracked a touristy-looking woman's rib.

He didn't have time to say anything, though, as Teddy seized him by the arm and dragged him back through his wake of now-cautious people.

Only one man was brave enough to tag along. Harry wheeled round, wand at the ready, when someone tugged at his sleeve. It was a dull-faced sort of fellow in star-spangled trousers. Harry blinked.

"Excuse me," said the apparition, who had a heavy accent to complete the hallucination. "Would you be Mr Lupin?"

Harry blinked again. It had been a hell of an hour already, and, frankly, the last time any wizard had ever failed to recognize who he was had been at least a decade ago. And he had been undercover and using Polyjuice Potion at the time. There were even a surprising number of Muggles who sometimes seemed to point and gape at him, something Dudley had never adequately explained despite considerable interrogation. "No," he said, and gestured toward Teddy.

The apparition promptly turned forty-five degrees. "Excuse me. Would you be Mr Lupin?"

"Not _now_," said Teddy, in exasperation, tossing a business card in the man's general direction. "Send an owl."

And he promptly put the front door of the hotel between them and him.

Harry (after, of course, giving the lobby a quick once-over) raised his eyebrows, thus making Teddy hold still for at least three consecutive seconds. "Well handled."

Teddy pulled a face. "Harry," he said, in an agonized undertone, "_he's trying to jump out the window_."

"W-What?"

Harry nearly bolted. Only Teddy waving his arms in X's like a referee flagging in a rogue Quidditch flyer halted him. "Victoire's with him!"

"Why aren't you two restraining him!?"

"It's difficult -- "

"_How_?"

"You'll see -- "

They eschewed the internal Floo system, which had a line neither of their nerves could handle, taking the steps two at a time. Predictably, Teddy fell flat on his nose after the first flight or so. Harry didn't stop.

"Why's he trying to jump?" he shouted over his shoulder.

"Demonstration," gasped Teddy, who had got to his feet again with the ease of much practice and was now trying desperately to catch up with Harry's blistering progress. "A protest -- for -- world peace -- "

"What the hell does defenestration have to do with world peace?"

"Harry -- if any of this -- made sense to me -- I wouldn't -- have called -- you down here!"

Fair point, Harry acknowledged absently. In his peripheral vision, he saw Teddy clutch at the railing so as to not trip again as he rounded the corner. He nearly flipped himself over the banister in the process. Harry decided to ignore this in favor of the more novel insanity. He had already knew the room number, after all, and he barged onto the eighth floor without hesitation, magically busted open the door of the fourth room.

Directly across from him, James was indeed propped precariously on the small balcony. Victoire had wisely gone for her wand...

... but only to Conjure a rope. Which she had tied round James's ankle and was now desperately trying to knot around the handle of the bedroom next door. Deciding to gape later, Harry whipped out his own wand.

"Uncle Harry! _No!_"

With a dim feeling that Hogwarts standards must be falling tragically, Harry bellowed: "_Accio_ _James_!"

Next thing he knew, the world had become all noise: namely, one great big bang, surrounded by fast, excited yelling. Slowly, he tuned back in. The voice was Victoire's.

" ...we've tried _every_ type of spell we could think of -- charms, enchantments, hexes, chants -- _nothing_ affects him, not even runes -- "

He was on the floor again. The spell had failed that violently. Harry cast a bleary look around, not seeing much except a red-gold blur that didn't resolve into Victoire's hair until she repaired his glasses and pressed them back onto his nose.

How long had be been out?

"James?" he called. "Are you all right? -- Victoire, hush a moment, will you? -- James!"

He was positive he heard a voice even after Victoire had stopped talking. He was pretty sure it was James's, but it kept going on and on without even acknowledging his calls.

"We can't _force _him to do anything, we're trying to reason with him but he won't listen to us -- you have to go talk to him, Uncle Harry."

"Is that crowd chanting for _James_?" demanded Harry, getting to his feet.

Teddy, who was trying and failing miserably at lassoing James's ankle, looked over and up at him. "Yeah."

"Hell." Harry crossed the room to the balcony in a few long strides, a bit horrified by what he could understand of James's speech, and blinking in the bright sunlight.

"They're saying _jump! jump! jump!_" translated Teddy.

Harry lost a precious second gaping down at the enthusiastic crowd. "You're _joking_."

"Yes, because it's _hysterical_," said Teddy, who was beginning to sound just that. He shoved Harry onto the balcony next to James (Harry almost fell off).

"James Potter!" he thundered, vaguely aware of the crowd cheering.

"Hi, Dad," said James sunnily. Then he looked askance at Harry, who had wedged himself in the three inches between James and the railing. "Oy, you're blocking my way."

"James, you need to get inside."

"Sorry, can't just yet. I'll come up after I jump."

"We're eight stories up!"

James waved a hand airily, the way he normally did when someone told him that if he didn't go to bed shortly he wouldn't be able to wake up early tomorrow for _x_ uncool activity.

"I just covered an entire continent by Floo in under forty minutes," said Harry, folding his arms. "Don't you think I get a _nice to see you, Dad, let's sit down and catch up a bit_?"

"Dad, you're standing in the path of world peace."

James's eyes were big and earnest. Unnerved, Harry decided that the whole reasoning bit was a waste of time; if it hadn't been his own son, he would have come to the conclusion long before.

"No," he said casually, raising his wand. "I'm not standing in the path of world peace." He made a sweeping motion. "This is."

When he brought the wand down it was in a fulsome shower of sparks. They started to disperse rapidly, but the seeming chaos started to cross in and out of itself, so that within seconds it had formed into the shape of a monstrously large hippogriff.

Harry flicked his wand. The sparkling hippogriff dove.

He didn't need the crowd's reaction to be translated this time; screams of panic are a universal language. Harry kept the corner of his eye on James, further disconcerted to see that James wasn't sulking at the disbandment of his audience. Expression very even, perhaps even serene, James hoisted himself up on the balcony railing, purpose in every line of his young body.

_Oy!_ thought Harry. _Said_ Harry, "_Maceritur!_"

This time, his wand was pointed down; the street below turned into foam padding. James, one leg up and over the railing, paused.

After a moment's blinking consideration, he gracefully landed back on the balcony, and with all possible dignity walked back into room 804.

Harry was pretty sure he heard Victoire breathe, "Oh thank God." It was hard to tell, inasmuch as next moment she was shaking James with almost criminal violence, and shrieking about what a such-and-such twerp he was.

Teddy, slumped against the wall, just ran a hand through his hair shakily. Harry looked at him, then back at James and Victoire, and then back at him. "Tell me the two of you have alcohol on hand," said Harry grimly, preparing to rescue his eldest child from permanent hearing damage.

--

Trying to talk to James was something like hell. Harry was terribly anxious that he had been replaced with a magical copy. He couldn't test the theory with any diagnostic spells, of course, because they only knocked him out and left James unaffected.

It was hours past nightfall, and the only progress Harry had made was to convince James to take a bath, which he hadn't done since yesterday morning. James was warm to the idea, although he insisted on calling it an "ablution," which made some parts of Harry shrivel and die a whimpery death, and other parts wonder where James had even learned the word.

He was leaning outside the bathroom, where the door was still open because Harry didn't entirely trust James not to drown himself in order to protest child abuse or something, and they were calling back and forth to each other, though it was mostly a one-sided conversation.

"What made you want to jump?" asked Harry, as calmly and clinically as possible, in hopes of identifying what sort of curse James had been put under.

No reply.

"James, what made you want to jump?" Still no reply. "James!"

Then he heard the sound of bubbling. James was breathing out bubbles into the tub. Perhaps Victoire had it right with "twerp."

"James, do you want me to come in there?"

At the threat of invaded privacy and offended masculinity, James withdrew his head from the water with a splash. "Dad, it wasn't going to hurt me," he said, with an exasperating sort of patience.

"It was eight stories."

"I would have bounced," James said, still quite patiently.

"You would have -- James, you're almost a fully-trained wizard, you would not have boun -- "

"The pure, spontaneous magic of our youth still resides deep within us," insisted James. "We just have to unlearn our reliance upon wands and incantations, and get in touch with the inner fire."

"Right. Look, James, I'm going to the play that card that I don't often play -- you know, the one where I have probably traversed more deep magic than any other wizard alive."

James's silence was palpably lofty. Harry found himself forced to lecture in a way that would have done Percy Weasley proud.

"Even wizards who aren't trained in magic lose the strength they had when they were young. If you don't learn to channel it, it gets weaker, not stronger -- and by your age it would be too late to protect you from twenty-seven metres of gravity."

"I'm afraid you're butchering simple physics as well as the laws of magic, Dad," said James gently.

It was Harry's turn to slump against the wall, clutching at his head -- not because his old scar hurt, but simply because he had the mother of all headaches after several hours of this unshakably mental doppelganger-James.

"Sandwich?"

Victoire's voice was sympathetic and very soft. She had tiptoed over; she and Teddy had been conversing in hushed whispers over in the kitchen while Harry tried his hand with James.

"Thanks," said Harry dully, taking it out of reflexive Auror training and even longer-honed common sense (in unknown situations, make sure you're well fortified).

Teddy poked his colourful head round the corner. "Any luck?" he asked hopefully, though still in the same hushed hospital sort of voice.

"Well," said Harry, "at least he no longer thinks he can right the wrongs of the world by his smell alone."

"That is progress," agreed Victoire, with a reflexive sniff, though her eyes remained worried. "Do you think it's a curse of some sort?"

"Must be. But I've never heard of anything that makes you immune to magic." Harry finished stuffing the sandwich into his mouth, but shook his head as Victoire offered a second one. " 'Jump, jump, jump', indeed," he fumed. "What were they _thinking_? And where was law enforcement?"

"They're corrupt all the way through," whispered Teddy. "MLE, Aurors, Hit Squad, the courts, everything. All in One-Hit Halkias's pocket."

"I know that. But even corrupt departments tend to want to disperse small riots on the streets. I'm shocked I haven't been called to task for that damn hippogriff."

"No, really. They do nothing," said Teddy earnestly. "I'm supposed to be writing a story on it, actually -- haven't made any of the appointments I lined up since James went off his nut, of course, but from what I hear their absence today isn't any surprise."

"Let's not bring them into it, then," said Harry, rising to his feet again. "I'm going to see if I can get him to bed without too much talk about, I dunno, the way the stars remind us of our ultimate insignificance, or whatever."

"That's it?" asked Victoire, voice no longer quite as whispery. She and Teddy looked positively disillusioned. "But what are you going to _do_?"

"Not sure just now. But everything is brighter in the morning," insisted Harry. "Our ingenuity not least of all."

He pretended not to notice the doubtful despairing looks passed between the two young people as he entered the bathroom, with the stance of one ready to do war. But just before opening his mouth to address James, a thought struck him.

"Oh, but just in case it isn't," he added, casually peering round the doorway again, "just in case we wind up having to call grandparents down here -- you two might want to move your stuff into separate rooms again."

Victoire and Teddy only blushed a little.


End file.
